


The Unmarked Dragon (Original Work)

by kaotic312



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Discovery, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other Worlds, Would love feedback, abilities, please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaotic312/pseuds/kaotic312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a work of original fiction.  Fantasy, relationships, adventure and a different take on dragons.  Finn and Justin are foster children who are discovering that their pasts aren't what they'd thought, that there are other worlds out there.  Along with good friends they can't resist exploring, trying to find out about themselves and are they really even brothers in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discoveries

When you live with a sociopath life isn't all bad. They can be incredibly charming, fun and sweet, you just have to know the cardinal signs for when to be wary. Justin hadn't made a single complaint that morning, in retrospect that should have been the first clue.

Though, to be truthful, even if he had been wary Finn wouldn't have initially questioned the scarf his brother was wearing to school that day. A scarf was just too ordinary. Justin was usually a step ahead of the fashion curve, a trend setter rather than a follower. Finn himself didn't usually bother. If it was reasonably clean and fit, then it was fine.

However, Justin was always trying out new fashions. Although setting trends wasn't really his thing, now that Finn really thought about it. While the younger brother did seem to care about trends and styles, it was more to see whom he could get to 'follow' him. He hated following others, that was what it boiled down to in the end. Justin was never looking out for the newest thing so much as he was constantly on the look out for his newest victim. Or rather, for something to amuse or entertain him.

"Did you do your homework?" Deann asked from the front passenger seat. Their foster mother didn't even flip the mirror up to ask the question, continuing applying her blue-sheened eye shadow even as they left their aging subdivision behind. Not a bad area, it held a good mixture of older couples and new young families just starting out. However, their family was neither and the two teenagers often seemed out of place among their neighbors.

"Of course, mama." Came Justin's smooth reply. Then he smiled and said "Homework Blues."

Finn didn't move except for a wry smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. "Shouldn't you have asked that last night, rather than on the way to school?" He didn't call her mama, she hadn't asked him to and he hadn't offered, despite having lived with her and her husband for just over three years. To his brother he just spoke blandly. "Blues mean something sad, but we did our homework."

Justin shrugged. "Homework Bliss doesn't work as a title." The two brothers had this ongoing game between the two of them for almost as long as either could remember. 

"Don't be a smart ass, Finn." Deann twisted her mouth at her own small reflection in the car mirror, checking her teeth for lipstick as she ignored the boy's habitual game. "Did you really do your homework?"

Finn sighed and turned his head to look out the window, he knew what was coming. 

"Finn?" His foster father growled from the driver's seat. "Homework?"

Homework? Was that really a priority? Finn yawned widely, having not slept well. Again. But his worries went a bit deeper than whether or not his social studies project was done. And not responding to Roger the first time he spoke was sheer habit.

"Finn!" Roger's impatience was showing.

The young sixteen year old nodded, not caring if they weren't looking at him as he spoke. "Yes, sir. All done." He'd been living in their house for three years as their foster child and they hadn't caught onto the fact that he almost always did his homework. School was a refuge for him, mostly. His grades may not be straight and perfect, but they certainly weren't terrible. 

In fact, the boys' social worker was hopeful that Finn would become the first foster child from their county to graduate high school on time. The first. Despite being in America and the county being around for over two centuries, no kid 'in the system' had managed to graduate high school with their classmates. Oh sure, there were some GED go-getters and this didn't count the foster kids who'd actually been adopted or reunified with their biological families. However, no child before him had aged out of the foster care system and still managed to receive their high school diploma just like every other teen, and on time.

Today, in this moment, the thought failed to excite.

Finn watched as the scenery between what passed for a home and school roll by, pretty uninteresting stuff. A blend of small houses and trailers, even a falling down tobacco barn here and there. North Carolina roads always had a good mix. Here was a nice house with toys on the porch. There was a trailer with clothing hanging on a line outside right next to a small house in need of a good power wash, but with a spotless Lincoln parked in the front.

Finn would rather have been living in any one of them, rather than where the good state employees had deemed as suitable. Even the falling down tobacco shed with it's rotting boards and overgrown weeds. Not that Roger and Deann were terrible or even abusive, they weren't. But it wasn't a home.

"FINN!" 

The teenager's smile had long since faded. "What?" He said rather dully, distracted by his wandering thoughts.

"Why did you make Justin do your homework as well as his own? He's younger than you! That is just the type of lazy-ass stupidity that I expect from a little thug like you." Deann seemed to be on a roll, and calling him little? He topped her by nearly six inches.

Oh boy. Finn tuned her out and instead cut his gaze over at a smug looking Justin. Homework? "Lame." He mouthed at his younger brother.

Justin's smile didn't dim. Finn paused. Scenarios went through his mind quickly. He could deny, but Justin was a very convincing liar while Finn was the quiet one often in trouble.

"Finn? Do me the respect of an answer!" Deann's voice sharpened further.

Well, he could suggest that they compare the homework itself. They'd find Finn's crappy penmanship on his math and his social studies project on the cheap flash drive they'd made his social worker buy him at the start of the school year. Ah. Unless ....His dark brown eyes narrowed, unless Justin had re-written the calculations in his own hand. Which he might have done. Finn's hand twitched, that was the math. What about his project? His fingers curled with the need to check his backpack for the flash drive. His project was due today and he couldn't believe he'd let down his guard long enough to be unsure if the device was still where it was supposed to be.

His younger brother's blue-green eyes sparkled, almost daring him to speak up for himself. Yeah, this had 'trap' written all over it. "Maybe Homework Blues is a good title after all." Justin drawled the words in an exaggerated manner.

Finn rolled his head, cracking his neck loudly, which he knew irritated Deann. "Whatever." The hell if he'd ever let her see his insecurities.

The boys' foster mother turned to glare at the duo in the back seat. She quickly smiled at Justin, revealing too-white teeth. Finn wondered how she'd paid for them, was it with state money the couple received for 'taking care' of the two brothers? Probably. His fingers itched at the thought. Never having any worth of his own, he usually hoarded what little he could earn or scrounge. Unlike Justin, who spent everything as fast as it came to him.

Deann's smile dimmed as she finally recognized the scarf that the younger boy was wearing. "Isn't that my Christmas present from my sister?"

And just like that, the subject of homework disappeared, as if the responsible parental question hadn't been all that important in the first place. Finn sneered, "You hate her anyway." 

But though the subject had now changed, he felt that certain twinge of uneasiness grow bigger. The homework was one thing, he'd spotted that trap. Now he too eyed his brother's scarf, wondering why he hadn't noticed sooner. What was the younger teen up to now? It wasn't cold this spring. No need for anything wrapped around the neck. Uh oh. 

Finn closed his dark eyes briefly. He' really fallen down on the job this morning, not paying close enough attention. "The Great Scarf Caper?"

"Shut up, Finn!" Growled Roger from the front seat. 

Justin shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. "Sounds like a Muppet movie or something. I prefer 'All In'."

"You've been watching too much poker on television." Finn said with a yawn.

Ignoring Roger had the usual effect. "I told you to shut up, mister! Or do you want me to make you shut up?" 

Finn sometimes wondered if Roger even knew who he was. The man threatened a lot, but thankfully never followed through. He was basically all bark. His foster father worked as a mechanic, coming home to eat and watch televised sports. He was almost a caricature of a guy than a real person. The boys never saw much of him though.

The brothers never ate at the family table with the two adults, having their own area in the back of the house, eating at an old card table that wobbled. Their food in the pantry was even separate. Name brands taking up the most space, but with a corner stocked with generic products just for the boys.

The only time Finn really saw Roger was when he was being told off, usually with his back to him as he watched a race or a game. Finn gave a light snort, if anyone ever kidnapped Roger he knew he'd not be able to give an accurate description to the police artists. Though he could describe the back of the man's head extremely well. Finn turned to look back out the window again. It was better than describing the back of his hand, he supposed. As always, he reminded himself that it could be worse.

Deann and Roger sucked. They were generally cold and greedy people. But they fed the boys, mostly from the dollar menus at fast food chains, but also simple meals at home. Though Deann was often far too fond of garlic in her meatless spaghetti. The boys also had basic clothing, though nothing fancy unless it came from the local Good Will. Still, neither Deann nor Roger ever laid a hand on either one of them. As far as Finn was concerned, that was pretty damned good. Yeah, his pants were getting too short, again. So what? He was growing, not their fault.

Justin subtly elbowed his older brother, drawing Finn back to the current events. The fourteen year old didn't like not having an audience.

Finn sneered. He was good at sneering.

"But it's so soft, and it makes my eyes look bluer. And there's this girl in my class ..."

"Overdone." Finn commented as he rolled his eyes. "Bluer isn't a word anyway." His words drawing a dark look from good old foster mom.

"That's sweet, honey. But that's cashmere and I don't want you to take it to school. Look, this weekend I'll buy you your own scarf. Let you pick out just the right color and everything. How does that sound?" Deann tugged on the end of the scarf, while Justin looked sad.

Looked sad. Finn watched, his feelings of unease growing. Justin was never sad. Never. He had one basic emotion. Calculating. One. And despite any dictionary explaining to the contrary, calculating was an emotion for a certain type of individual. Apparently Deann didn't think Justin's act was overdone, more like well-done instead.

Then again, Justin was a complete pro at manipulation. And as his older brother, Finn knew why. He knew what his brother was, he'd seen enough cop shows on television. 

His dear baby brother was a sociopath. And few could see it but him.

Finn eyed the younger boy, cataloging him coolly. Slender, but not scrawny. There was some strength there, and quite a bit of speed. Blonde hair waved around his face gently, reaching just past the bottoms of his ear lobes. Not straight and not curly all at the same time. Blue-green eyes, wide and innocent looking in an otherwise almost sharp-featured face. In fact, if it weren't for the eyes or the charm he exuded, Justin wouldn't be that handsome. Sleeping children are supposed to look like angels. Not Justin. Asleep, his features took on an edge, a feeling of disconnect, almost dangerous. Awake? He was the most charming creature on the planet.

Justin was a smooth liar, cruel and manipulative. He lacked any hint of remorse or empathy and he was extremely cunning. Finn had looked up the definition of a sociopath. Checkmarked down the line, Justin had displayed all of it at one point or another.

"But there's this girl I like ...." Again with the trail-off voice. Drawing a smile from poor Deann.

Finn wondered what dear foster mom, Deann, would think if she could see the dreams that Justin had of her. Ones that he'd detailed for his older brother at great length. The elder teen had let his fingernails cut into his palms to keep from reacting throughout most of it all.

Justin loved telling Finn about his 'dreams'. Which was more in line with wish-fulfillment fantasies. Finn had long ago learned not to react too horrified by his baby brother's thoughts. It only served to escalate Justin's behaviors, to feed his moods.

Finn wanted to tell them. He wanted to tell the police that Justin was lying about the cat's untimely demise. He wanted to tell them that his brother was blaming him for the small fires that had been set around their old neighborhood. And he really wanted to tell them about the small, and big, cruelties and how it was getting worse every year.

But each time he opened his mouth, he stopped. More specifically, he was physically stopped. Dead cold. 

A cold way beyond ice or snow. That's what he felt when he tried to speak about Justin or his actions. He couldn't readily describe the terrible feeling of dread, the shuddering breath-stealing feeling of impending death. It wasn't like a sudden temperature drop, it was if he himself was the cause of the chilling freeze. Something deep within him would just explode outwards, filling his whole body. And at that point, he couldn't make a sound. 

Once, at the police station, he'd tried. He'd tried to push past that cold feeling and Finn thought he had never been closer to actual death in his life. His hands and feet, already numb with cold, had felt ...alien. As if they were disappearing from his body. He had been able to see them, but he could no longer get them to operate. His lungs had felt like blocks of ice that wouldn't move, he hadn't been able to breathe at all for a few excruciating seconds. It had taken three hours of complete silence before he'd even begun to feel normal again and take a breath without pain. Five hours before he could speak normally. And none of which he could talk about or describe, not without being able to speak. None of which amused the police or Department of Social Services people at all.

He'd never tried to explain Justin to anyone again. The mere memory made his lungs ache.

Though, there was one exception in his life. Two really. But they didn't count. And why he could tell them and no one else? He had a theory. Maybe because they saw Justin as he really was too. Maybe because they already knew, he could talk to them. Sousa and Mac. They'd be no help in this situation though.

"Let me have that, and we'll go shopping tonight." 

Deann smiled, as Finn turned back to the conversation. Tonight? What happened to this weekend? Yeah, Justin happened. Charming bastard. Finn looked back out the car window. They were about half-way to school, stopped at a light and surrounded by orange barrels not too far from the hospital entrance. They were widening the road out here, to make things easier. In the meantime, all the drivers suffered. All the drivers and also all their passengers.

Roger cursed under his breath. The same words that had gotten Finn into in-school suspension last semester. Life wasn't fair. The light turned green, but the cars didn't move forward. Finn strained to look without opening his window. Oh. Construction vehicles, backing up into the only open lanes, men with red signs keeping drivers at bay. Roger cursed some more. Finn listened, but heard no new words that he didn't already know.

"What's that bruise?" Deann's voice had turned brittle with suspicion.

Finn felt himself stiffen. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to look. He stared out the window at stupid orange barrels as Justin expertly spun a tale. The fourteen year old hemmed and hawed and appeared reluctant to speak, not wanting to get 'someone' in trouble.

"You didn't have that last night when you went to bed." Finn could feel accusatory eyes upon him all without looking. Deann, he was sure, was staring. Hell, Roger was probably even looking in the rear-view mirror at him. Finn forced himself to remain calm, still. Like a prey animal just praying the predator wasn't terribly hungry.

Deann gave a huge put-upon sigh. "Did your brother do that to you?"

Finn felt his eyes drying as he tried hard not to even blink. 

"No ...no." Justin spoke soothingly. The same tone of voice Finn had heard his brother use on the neighbor's new dog. His jaw started to ache now too, in an effort not to talk. "It was ...an accident ...really." Justin continued.

Finn finally turned and looked, he couldn't help himself. A livid bruise was around his brother's throat. Finn could tell that Deann was suspicious of him by the look she gave him, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't pin Justin down to a solid explanation.

The older boy wanted to tell her to give up, better trained therapists had tried and failed to get a straight answer from Justin. Yet all believed him. They always believed him. Justin was a better actor than the guy who'd won the Oscar that year.

"What the hell did you do to your brother?" Deann snapped at Finn, obviously unable to get an answer from the younger boy. 

Finn met her gaze head on, knowing what she saw when she looked at him. She told him often enough. A loser.

Dark, brown hair fell over his eyes. It was basically straight but with the hint of a wave. It was too long really, but the state provided therapists had told Deann and Roger that it was okay to give the boys a sense of control in their lives by allowing them to choose their own hairstyles. Something to help them feel more at ease in their new foster home. Justin's hair made him look sweet and open. Finn's was more of an effort to hide himself, falling into his face at almost any opportunity.

Behind the hair he had brown eyes surrounded by the only part of him that was truly handsome, dark lush lashes that even Justin was envious of. His rather thin lips fell into his habitual sneer.

"I've grown another inch." Finn verbally avoided the question. "Need new pants." He didn't really expect that to work.

"Lame distraction." Whispered Justin, covering his face with one hand and giving a light cough.

Deann narrowed her eyes on Finn and he wanted to tell her that her blue-sheen eye shadow was darker on the left side than it was on the right. "Did you leave that bruise on Justin?"

The youth eyed her carefully and then slowly shook his head, gritting his teeth. It didn't matter what he said. Justin had implied it was him, and that was enough.

"Liar." Deann hissed at him. She turned to the younger boy, and her look softened. She actually smiled with encouragement. "You know, we can call your social worker. There are a lot of good therapeutic homes in Raleigh."

Justin's blue-green eyes went cool for a second, making Deann stop, suddenly unsure. Then the boy smiled and let his lips tremble a second, the moment passing as if it had never been. "Finn didn't hurt me, I swear. I don't want to leave you."

The teen under fire sunk down in his seat as far as the seat belt allowed. He closed his eyes as he listened to poor Deann being manipulated by an expert.

"You wouldn't have to leave us, sweetie." Cooed the woman. "And Finn would be perfectly happy in Raleigh with some good opportunities. I know your social worker doesn't want to separate you two, but this could be better for the both of you."

True. It would be nice to get away for a while, let someone else see the monster that was Justin, at least some of the time. Let someone else be his victim, and not take the blame for it all.

"Noooo ...." Justin played pitiful, his hand going out to catch Finn's. The older boy yanked his own hand away, drawing another angry look from their foster mother.

"I can't be without Finn! He's my brother! The only family I have!" Justin's voice rose dramatically.

Finn opened his eyes, turning to stare at Justin now. This was new. Just what was his baby brother planning? Rising emotion? What was the play?

"I can't be without him! I won't!" Justin slipped out of his seat agilely, throwing open the car door before racing off down the side of the busy road, back the way they had come. 

Roger started cursing like a mad man, but was unable to turn around in the heavy traffic jam. Stuck. "Go after him!" He yelled at his wife.

Deann was tearing up, looking worried and harassed all at the same time. "I'll never catch him! Finn! Go get your brother! What the hell are you waiting for? He could get hurt out there!"

Not likely. "I'd worry more about the world getting hurt by him, not what could happen to him." 

"FINN!"

The sixteen year-old rolled his eyes and undid his seat belt, wondering if either parent had bothered to think on how Justin could have possibly gotten away so fast. He had to have had the seat belt off already. Would they think of that? No.

"I can't be late to work, Deann!" Roger was fuming, his hands showing white knuckles around the steering wheel. "This is all your fault young man!"

"Always is." Finn slid out toward the same door his brother had used.

The foster mother smiled weakly, waving a hand at her irate husband. "Just get him back and bring him to the house. I'll call the school."

Finn climbed out at an even pace, managing to shut the car door without slamming it. He left his school backpack in the vehicle, it didn't look like he'd make his Social Studies presentation today after all. Idly he wondered if his project was even in with his stuff, or had it been tampered with or destroyed? He strode down the side of the road, seemingly without hurry, slouching a bit and appearing like he had no cares in the world.

Deann rolled down the window and shouted for him to run. Finn never missed a step, nor hurried. There was no need. Justin never put himself in danger. Sociopath that he was, the boy didn't like pain at all. Not when directed at him. Finn knew Justin was fine, and probably waiting for him.

What a way to ditch school. Finn sighed and kept walking. Waiting for his brother to reveal himself.

His brother. Yeah. Justin only claimed the relationship when it was prudent for him. When he wanted something, or when he needed to blame things on someone. 

The two boys had been found, abandoned together. Finn had been a two year old, crying and cold with badly cut up feet from the rough gravel. Justin had been wrapped up in warm blankets, crying but unhurt.

They'd been together ever since. Called brothers, but looking completely different as night and day. The state had separated them before, but with ill effects. Apparently Finn would 'shut down' as a small toddler, without Justin around. Almost becoming catatonic.

Conversely, Justin would scream and scream until Finn entered the room, the only one able to calm the infant. The state, not liking problems had figured that the boys should remain together. They'd been declared brothers on paper, and that was the final word as far as the good state of North Carolina went.

In and out of foster care. That was a popular catch phrase on all the legal shows on television. Finn knew this, because he watched them all. And just about any time there was a perpetrator, there was that phrase. In and out of foster care.

Finn sneered. Yeah. He knew quite a few kids in the system. They'd come in scared and few ever stopped being scared. Their parents would pull it together for a while and they'd leave all excited. Until they came back, looking haunted or lost. Again and again. Yet no matter how bad it was at home, that's where they all wanted to return. Home. A few got lucky though, like Sousa and Mac. Adopted or reunited with families able to keep it together. Those weren't the norm, though.

Not that the state social workers didn't bother trying. Over the years, attempts had been made at introducing the boys together or separately to possible adoptive families. Some test weekends had even been arranged. Nothing had ever come of it. And now both boys were of an age to say whether or not they wanted to be adopted.

Justin always said 'no' but never explained, not even to his brother, driving his social workers insane. On the other hand, Finn wanted to say yes, but never felt comfortable with any of the possible families. Though the number of families looking into adoption had dropped considerably with each passing birthday. Few would even look at taking on older teen boys.

In and out of foster care. The dark-haired teen sighed. He and Justin didn't have a family to go 'out' with. They'd gone into foster care, and had stayed there. And would stay there. Until they aged out. Or until Justin killed someone and Finn went to jail for the crime. 

Something Finn knew was a good possibility.

All because he couldn't stand up for himself. Not against Justin. Though no one else could push him around. He was tall for his age, often being mistaken for eighteen. He had broad shoulders and a naturally muscular build that didn't come from working out, but from nature and working manually whenever he could manage. Nothing overblown, just solid. If he weren't such a discipline 'problem' then he'd be a great fit for sports.

And he liked sports for the most part, though the few times Finn had tried out for anything, Justin had pulled some sort of stunt. Vandalism. Fires. It didn't matter. And while nothing could prove that Finn was behind these events, there was usually a lot of adult suspicion. Enough to force him out of extracurricular activities and back ...to Justin.

Not that Justin loved his 'brother'. No. The fourteen year old loved no one and nothing. He was incapable, as far as Finn could see. He needed Finn for some unknown reason. Just as the older boy couldn't tell anyone about his brother's aberrant behaviors without going 'cold'. Justin had to have Finn somewhere around, and that dependency did not make the younger teen very happy.

At least things had improved from since they were very young. Now Finn could be in another classroom, or in another school. Justin didn't scream and cry at the small separations anymore. But there was no way in hell that the sociopath would let the state send Finn to Raleigh. So Justin had to have Finn, and it angered the younger teen.

Finn figured Justin pretty much hated him. And the younger brother had talked endlessly about wanting to be alone. Yet. Separation between the brothers was something Justin tried to avoid at all cost.

"Yo."

Finn looked around. He'd walked up to the tree lined entrance of the urgent care center in front of the local hospital. He never could wrap his head around why there was an urgent care facility only a couple hundred feet away from the entrance to the hospital's emergency room. You had to love Eastern North Carolina he guessed. Just like when there were picturesque tobacco sheds with rotting boards next to houses costing more than the president made in a year. 

"What was that about?" Finn asked without inflection. "Ten Ways to Ditch?"

"Stupid title. No, more along the lines of 'Missing Math Tests'." Justin yawned and started walking, Finn followed. Like he always did, despite being older. "Or how about, 'Justin is Bored'. You can thank me now."

"That bruise, I thought you were going to give Deann a heart attack." Finn said quietly, exaggerating. Justin loved praise. And Finn liked a pleased Justin, it made life easier. "We can call that one 'Send Finn to Prison?' Right?"

The younger boy grinned darkly, but kept walking. 

"Did you touch my Social Studies project?" Finn asked with faked casualness. He'd put in two whole nights working on that thing. It was supposed to take at least two weeks, but while the sixteen year-old had done the work, he hadn't found it interesting enough to do much more than was barely necessary.

"Maybe." Justin smiled sweetly and with an open face without any hint of guile. "Or, if you want a title for this one, how about 'Corrupted'."

"Shit." Finn sighed, glad he'd gotten a back-up flash drive from Sousa last semester. One that his brother didn't know about. Because he was positive his brother wasn't lying.

"I want a drink."

Finn nodded, slouching somewhat to lessen his height, his hand going into his jeans pockets. "No money."

"I have drink money." Justin's smile grew.

Surprised, the older boy shook his head. "Huh? How?" He and his brother were foster children, wards of the state. Free lunch and breakfast at school. Only dinner was supplied by good ol' Deann and Roger. Until the summers, when they had to hear the complaints about how much the two of them were eating. Seriously? How much could white bread and off-brand deli meats packed in artificial coloring cost?

"I told Deann that I wanted to buy this certain girl a drink at lunch today. That she was so sweet and pretty, and that ...hey, she looked a bit like Deann! Could I? Please? Please?"

"She fell for that?" 

Justin turned smug. "Don't try it, that wouldn't work for you."

True. Finn shrugged. "Is there a girl?" He asked, morbidly curious.

The younger teen gave him a sarcastic look and raised his eyebrows. "Janet bought me a drink yesterday. Saralynn traded me her soda for my milk the day before. And Mrs. Blount slipped me a dollar on Monday."

Finn stared, truly impressed, though a bit disturbed at how easily his younger brother could manipulate just about anyone. "Mrs. Blount hated me." He commented.

Justin laughed slightly. "You exaggerate."

Chuckling dryly, the older teen shook his head. "Naw. Remember? She was my teacher the year you kept breaking all my pencils before school. Took the markers and singed the tips? She'd lent me those. Thought I was being disrespectful to her school supplies. No lie, she hated me."

The blonde tilted his head, his eyes looking more green than blue at the moment. "Oh, I forgot about that."

Silence fell over the duo as they cut through the trees and down a steep embankment, struggling to keep their balance and not run down the incline to the bottom. Heading for the local D&L gas station by unspoken agreement.

"You shouldn't have opened Riley's fence." Justin finally commented as the boys made their way past one of the local funeral homes, the one catering to the more middle income families.

"Creepy place." Finn tried to distract his brother with another conversation tactic. "How many dead bodies in there right now?"

It didn't work.

"Riley is a beautiful Shepherd. So friendly." Justin continued without determent. 

Finn shrugged, not bothering to deny the charge, though admitting to nothing. The shepherd was indeed an absolutely beautiful animal. And he'd wanted it to stay that way. Which is why Riley was now 'missing', to keep the dog away from the neighborhood sociopath.

Justin turned to walk backwards, his earlier humor having evaporated in only an instant. Changeable blue-green eyes glared at Finn. "I wasn't going to hurt it, you know."

No, he didn't know. But it had made him sick inside thinking about the ways his sweet little brother could have tortured that animal. He grunted. "Him, not it."

"Why hasn't it returned home?" Justin asked smoothly, even as he turned to walk forward again. The boys moved on down toward the gas station ahead of them. "You'd think he'd go back to where he was being fed."

Finn was admitting to nothing. He merely shrugged. "New home, he may have gone back to his original home. Big, but still basically a puppy at a year old." He waited, seeing if his brother was going to let the matter drop. He kept his expression neutral. He was no where near as fine an actor as his brother, but he could stonewall well.

"Riley Come Home." Justin mused. "Waiting for Riley?"

Finn shrugged off the titles. "Sounds more like tween reading material than movies."

"Hardly." Justin shook his head. "Godot. As in waiting for ... as in the play?"

Finn looked blank and his younger brother sighed with patently false despondency. "You are classically under-educated if you haven't read that one.

"You haven't read it." Finn took a shot in the dark, one that his younger brother didn't deny. "Play? You heard about it from someone else. Probably Saralynn since she's into community theater and stuff."

Justin sighed as they crossed through the nearly empty gas lanes, glancing idly at the one middle-aged woman pumping gas. She gave the boys a look as if to say she knew they were ditching school. But she didn't say anything. Other than that, there was only one other car pulled up to a pump, no one inside. A beat up old economy class car that was too cheap to be either US or Japanese made. Some other country had tried their hand at making a cheaper vehicle. More than a few had even sold.

Justin laughed, jerking his head over to the poor car. "Wussy cat inside. Male or female, don't know yet. No credit, has to pre-pay."

"Male." Finn said, spying the camouflage duffel in the back. He didn't bother to argue his brother's snap judgment anymore, it wasn't worth the aggravation. Especially if he was ever proven right. That only pissed off Justin further. 

The younger teen grunted. "Good call." He said, but his eyes narrowed, he didn't like to be shown up. Finn silently pushed open the door to the gas station convenience store, but let his brother go first. Finn always let him go first. It was never a good idea to let Justin be at your back, even when his brother was in a fun loving mood. His moods could change instantly, and the older boy knew it was always more prudent to have his brother where he could see him.

Finn stepped inside behind his brother, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the store. Justin had stopped in front of him, dead in the middle of the walk way and was blocking the aisle. "Move." He grunted.

"Shut up!"

The harsh voice had Finn's eyes snapping up and away from his brother's back. He stared over the shorter boy's shoulder. 

Gun. 

Dark eyes widened as his mind raced. Finn knew it was fear and his own mind tricking him that made the barrel of the gun look as large as his head. Realistically he could even see the man holding it was shaking, his face hidden behind a yellow and maroon mask. Idly he wondered if the robber had tried to find a black one, or had gone with whatever had been on hand. Yellow was an odd color for a robber, wasn't it?

"Don't move!" The man yelled, snapping the teen back to the immediacy of the situation.

Finn's hands had been automatically rising, but stalled at the man's shouted command.

The clerk, now behind the man's back, let his hand slip down below the counter. The robber must have caught the movement in one of the mirrors hung around the store to prevent theft. Because he spun in a panic and shot the clerk in the head without preamble.

Blood sprayed the junk food display next to the counter, the color glaring garishly on the plastic wrapper of the white snack cakes on display. The man collapsed with a sick thud to the floor as the robber started cursing and banging on the cash register with the butt of his gun.

"You shot him before he could open that?" Justin's voice dripped with disgust, apparently not even phased by the level of violence and blood already in evidence. Sociopath that he was, the younger boy knew no fear. 

Finn caught his breath as the attention, and the gun, spun back around to point at the two of them. Or at Justin. Who was daredevil enough to try something stupid.

For a long delicious moment, preternaturally longer than reality, Finn thought about what life would be like if Justin died. Shot in a botched robbery at a convenience store.

Justin gone. No more falling asleep in class because you were up all night, unable to sleep in case your little brother decided to cut up your sheets because of something petty. No more having people question you about bruises on your younger brother when he'd gotten them by doing something to himself, or having Finn drag him away from hurting someone else. Or waking up in the middle of the night with no clue where Justin was, or what he was doing, worried you might smell smoke. No more. No more.

For the first time in his life, Finn could taste freedom. And there was no rush of dead cold to stop him. He didn't even have to do anything, say anything. It was all right before him. Did it make him a bad person to think like this? Probably.

As his thoughts raced, a delicious heat bloomed in the center of his belly, filling him with excess energy. For a blessed second he reveled in the feeling of sheer strength, though he hadn't moved at all. He felt vital and alive in a way he'd never thought possible. The heat was filling him up, but wasn't burning him. Not yet. His inner temperature kept rising and the strength welling up within him kept growing, making his skin itch and crawl with the need to move. Finn's eyes widened as he could have sworn he even caught a whiff of something singed.

As cold as he felt when he tried to speak out against Justin, this was the opposite. Fire poured through his veins, the urge to move making his nerves ache with the need to do something, anything. Strength burst through him as his lungs expanded of their own accord and he took in one long breath. It was if an invisible line of flames flowed down his throat and burst out through his entire body. He didn't even think about it as his right hand rose in front of him and caught Justin's left shoulder.

But instead of a quiet signal to remain still and not to aggravate the man with the weapon, Finn pulled first, drawing the fourteen year old to one side as if he weighed nothing and then shoving him away. Hard.

Shocked at his own actions, he saw Justin about fly across the store to his right, slamming into a refrigerated case with a sickening crunch. The fourteen year old slumped to the ground. Blue-green eyes turning to stare right into Finn's own dark gaze even as the sound of the gun echoed in the small store.

It wasn't that the man missed. It was that it didn't matter. Finn felt the punch of the bullet hit him wide on the right side. Right where Justin had been standing but a moment ago.

Pain didn't reach him, not through the sensation of heat. But his eyesight did go suddenly gray. Colors bled away in an instant as he saw layer after layer of this store, and other strange places, all in a pale gray wash that appeared translucent. There were even glimpses of an open field, or some trees. People or things moving around. Indistinct. Ghosts maybe? He was probably dying after all. Was this what those paranormal shows on television called passing over? It all looked so normal somehow. Not heaven, not something with flames or bitter cold. Just colorless and see-through. Something deep inside him seemed to reach out for all that gray, finding comfort and escape there.

No! He didn't want to die! A small rational part of his mind flinched, repelled not by what he was seeing but by the thought of giving up. He was not going to die here, not now, not when he'd never gotten to travel. Not when he'd never gotten a chance to really live! Like two sides of magnets that flew violently away from each other instead of towards, instinct gave way to conscious thought. He ripped himself away from the lure of the gray worlds before him. Colors snapped back into focus as he spun with the impact of the bullet, almost turning in a full circle. He used the momentum to surge forward. A second shot, but this one really did go wide as Finn wrapped his hands around the man's throat.

The acrid scent of things burning teased his senses even as grim dark eyes met frightened dark eyes with huge pupils. Fingers tightened even as a hand with the gun came up and slammed against the side of Finn's head. The world spun, making him feel a sharp dizziness, but he didn't release his grip. There was nausea rising up in him and he had to swallow hard to keep it together. The smell of burned gunpowder and a throbbing in his side only added to his determination not to let go, not to get shot again.

Strangely dulled noises barely made an impact on the young teen even as he felt the man's throat give sickeningly beneath his hands as if something broke. He'd never felt this strong in his entire life. The man beneath him was now slamming his hands against the floor, almost like in a wrestling match. The signal for giving up. Almost idly the teen wondered where the sounds had gone. It was like watching a movie on soft mute, not completely silent but unable to make out the details. 

Hands grabbed at his arms, and it never occurred to him that the man had released the gun, not then. All he knew was that he couldn't let go. He literally couldn't. Finn's fingers seemed locked and determined, with the furious heat within him still raging.

It seemed like forever before other hands appeared. Hands that pulled at him, trying to yank him away, prying at his fingers. Finn resisted out of instinct, still unable to make himself let go. The hands became stronger as more of them appeared, though the shouting seemed to be miles away though he was distantly aware that someone was yelling. His fingers cramped as those hands pulled at him, pulling him away even as the heat within him began to fade, sliding away like the pull of the tide. With it went his strength, and his resolution of purpose. Finn's fingers finally went slack as he fell backwards, suddenly too weak to hold himself upright.

A man in a blue uniform helped him to sit up, or Finn knew he would have fallen. Blue? Cops. Shit. Finn's experiences with cops was not good.

But the man holding him semi-upright wasn't being rough as he laid Finn down on the floor of the convenience store, even using a jacket to pillow his head while someone pressed something against his side. Shouldn't his side hurt more?

Words echoed around in his mind. Shot. Hurt. Hero. Hero? He blinked and turned his head wincing as he caught the stench of something badly singed. Vaguely he wondered if seeing bags of chips blackening as their packaging melted was the start of an hallucination. Had someone sedated him? Could policemen do that or did they have to wait for paramedics?

"Don't ..." Finn coughed, not able to squeeze the word out as he sneezed rapidly four times in succession instead, his mouth and nose feeling achingly dry. It didn't really matter if he couldn't talk, though. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. Don't call him a hero? Maybe. Especially since he'd actually contemplated how much better his life would be without his younger brother. That didn't make anyone a 'hero', by any stretch of the imagination.

Brother. Finn forced his drooping eyelids back open as he searched the surroundings for his brother. It didn't take long. To his right Justin was standing to one side, out of the way. The younger teen was clutching his shoulder and bleeding slightly from a long scrape along his temple. The brothers stared at one another. Finn's eyes wide and clouding, while Justin's simply looked cold.

So. Justin was alive and basically unhurt. He felt relieved, and even a bit disappointed. Finn closed his eyes, swallowing the shame of wishing hurt upon anyone else. 

Dulled noises suddenly shrieked in his ears and he cried out, pushing away at the hands holding on to him. Finn realized that his hearing had been squashed somehow, maybe from the gunshot or blood loss, what did he know? But now it had returned and it wasn't a comfortable feeling. Nausea roiled up within him as he struggled to open his eyes again, only to fail as he slipped away into the dark, unable to fight the overwhelming sense of fatigue. 

His last thought as he faded was that he was glad it was dark, recognizing it as unconsciousness, and not the gray places. Not death.


	2. Chapter 2

Finn woke up by inches, groggy and unsure. Weird dreams flitted in and out, changing places and people. Thoughts came and went so fast he couldn't hold onto them, and through it all he just knew that he felt odd, disconnected somehow. Slowly he became aware enough to realize that he was hurting. Feeling a sick headache he decided to go back to sleep, but his eyes tried to blink without asking him first, habit maybe. Uncomfortable, his eyes felt like large rubber balls glued into his sockets, dry and stuck. He managed a groan.

Nothing. No comforting murmur. No one to tell him he didn't have to get up for school. Just beeping sounds, and a lot of dull pain. Now that he was aware of the pain, it started to grow. Pain was everywhere, even his facial muscles ached as he winced. What was that beeping? It wasn't his cheap alarm clock.

"Awake." The voice was cold. Finn stopped moving immediately, holding his breath until his lungs burned. He knew who was with him, and with immediate clarity he realized where he must be. Hospital. Finn thought about playing dead or asleep, but that didn't always stop Justin when he was in a foul mood. So Finn tried to blink his eyes open again. They were still dry and the light streaming in from what must be a window was a bit much. So he laid there, eyes watering from the too bright sunlight and stared up at the nondescript ceiling. 

Justin leaned in and stared down coldly, his blue-green eyes angry. He made a clucking sound with his tongue. "So. The hero awakens."

Ah. Finn eyed his younger brother with resignation, trying to focus through the headache. Hero. Yeah, that would be enough to set off sweet little Justin. Anything that pulled attention away from his brother, was wrong and needed to be destroyed. Finn was too familiar. All attention, all adoration was Justin's by default. Any deviation was not tolerated.

"What should the title be today? Firestarter? Dirty Harry? Dream in a Dusky Dawn? Gut Shot Hero? Hmmm?" Cold. The voice was frigid.

Finn sighed, feeling the dryness of his throat and wincing. His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke. "First one was used already, second one is a character. Last one sucks. But Dream in a Dusky Dawn?"

Justin shrugged. "My newest short story."

Finn nodded absently. "Too many D words. How about Devil in a Dark Dawn instead? Since you like D words this week. Have you managed to write this one yet?" It was a low blow as Justin always had grand ideas for stories, but they never made it past seven pages.

Instead of answering Justin simply held up an I.V. line. His. Finn watched, his fingers curling into the sheets of what had to be a hospital bed. The fourteen year old bent the tubing, cutting off the flow of fluid. A machine began to 'beep' as if to protest. Justin looked over and smiled. "Alarm? Let's see." He pushed a button on the box attached to the pole beside the bed. The beeping noise ceased.

Finn reached out with his free arm, grabbing at Justin's hand. The young blonde smiled darkly. "Oh? Finally growing a pair? Gonna stop me? What are you going to do? Set me on fire?"

Tightening his hand on Justin's made his own fingers go numb with cold. The harder he pressed, the sharper the pain. Finn wondered how he could be so screwed up in the head he couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on his vicious brother, even to defend himself. It was a long standing source of frustration. His eyes flicked to the bag hanging from a pole. He let his hand drop back down to the bed, his side starting to sting though the headache was still far more painful. How come it was his head that hurt the worst, when that isn't where he'd been shot in the first place?

Justin stared into Finn's dark eyes as he continued to squeeze the I.V. line. "How did you burn things back there in the store?"

"Didn't." Finn objected in a weary voice.

"Did." Justin frowned at the I.V. pump. Nothing was happening. And the machine had started up making beeping noises again. Justin jabbed the alarm button off once more, scowling.

"Cutting off fluids isn't exactly lethal." Finn croaked out the words, then regretted it as Justin's blue eyes slitted maliciously.

Finn had a moment to wonder, to curse himself for being unable to act, when Justin gave a sudden jerk on the I.V. line. The move took him completely by surprise. The line was connected to a type of needle, which was in turn connected to Finn's forearm. Rather, it was in his arm. The sharp and sudden pain of removal had him crying out, clutching his arm as he glared at his younger brother.

"How did you burn the ..."

The door behind Justin opened, and the fourteen year old didn't even hesitate, his words changing as his voice escalated. "Finn! Don't yank that out, you can't just leave!" The blonde sociopath made a kissing motion with his mouth where no one but his brother could see before turning toward the door, crocodile tears in his expressive eyes. "He won't listen to me!"

The nurse hurried in without a word and pushed a call light, even as she started pressing buttons on the I.V. pump. She pulled on gloves and grabbed some sterile pads, tearing open the packets as she applied pressure to Finn's arm. She was not smiling.

"That wasn't terribly smart." A dry voice commented from the doorway. 

Finn looked up to see a rather short man in a white coat. The stereotype of a doctor wasn't far off the mark, he thought rather randomly. Coat, name tag, stethoscope, glasses. The man was stocky and had hazel eyes with dark wavy hair cut almost too short, steel gray poking through all over. And Finn knew him.

"Dr. Michaels." His voice sounded relieved, though still raspy.

"Finn Michaelson." The doctor stressed the last name. As well he should, since he'd given it to both the abandoned children fourteen years prior. He turned to look at the rather distraught looking young teen, shifting his weight nervously back and forth. "Justin? Are you alright?"

"Yes ...yes, sir. I think so." 

Finn rolled his eyes at the tremble Justin had managed to put into his voice. He wondered if any of the other 'great' actors in Hollywood were actually sociopaths in disguise.

"I heard a bruised shoulder and a bump on the head with some cuts, and that was just for starters, hmm?" Dr. Michaels continued, looking into Justin's eyes even as the nurse finished up with Finn, putting something square and sticky over his arm where the I.V. had been pulled loose. She sent him a rather sour 'don't mess with this' look and then patted his shoulder in a 'heed me' manner.

"I got shot." Finn sounded petulant, even to himself. The nurse at least lost her frown and she nodded, gently holding up a large pink plastic cup with a straw. Water.

"You got lucky." Dr. Michaels said without looking at the older boy, patting Justin on the uninjured shoulder before turning to glare at Finn as the nurse let him drink a few sips. His throat, instead of being soothed, protested. The ice water irritated him somehow, making his mouth ache. He shook his head at taking any more.

"Don't mess up my handiwork." The nurse pointed at Finn, but was giving him a reassuring smile. "Doctor." She acknowledged as she left the hospital room, closing the door behind her.

"I still got shot." The teen told Dr. Michaels, his tone rife with great irritation. He pushed aside the fact that calling attention to himself was like waving a red flag in front of Justin. It galled too much to be ignored completely.

The doctor moved closer to look down at Finn, his eyes not ungentle. "You were grazed pretty badly. No internal injuries, thank goodness. We checked. Tore a chunk out of your side. You lost some blood there."

Finn grunted, actually feeling dizzy with relief that the bullet hadn't gutted him or something equally as gory. He'd known not to put too much weight on Justin's words, calling him gut shot. But he had wondered. It was also nice to know he'd kept all his original parts. Still, there was another thought haunting him. "The clerk?" He asked, remembering the awful way the man had fallen, looking completely lifeless.

Dr. Michaels nodded with a sniff, even as he pulled out a penlight to check Finn's pupil responses. "I'm not your surgeon or your doctor, but habits die hard. Your eyes look good. Better than the store clerk." The man sighed deeply. "He survived, by the way. Lucky as crap. The robber was too nervous to aim straight."

Justin laughed mockingly, hearing that. "You didn't have to push me out of the way after all, Finn. The man would have missed. You hurt me for nothing."

At this, the doctor turned and actually frowned at the younger teen. "I said the clerk survived, not that he didn't get shot. He could still lose his eye and we're hoping we don't have to crack open his skull to keep the swelling from pressing too much on the brain. He's got a long road ahead of him." 

Justin's laughter faded as he acted contrite. Dr. Michaels' expression softened. "Don't worry so. Your brother was there to protect you."

Finn watched as behind the doctor's back, Justin made a face of anger, baring his teeth.

Dr. Michaels looked back down at Finn and sighed. "And what were you doing skipping school and dragging your little brother along with you? Finn, I'm very disappointed, son."

Son. Finn's throat closed up for a moment and he couldn't respond. Michaels. Michaelson. This doctor, who had been doing his residency in the ER that night, had treated both Finn and Justin all those years ago. And he had cared enough to name them after himself, since there was no name or record of who they could be.

"That's not how it was." Came a whispered response from the blonde behind him. The doctor turned, obviously surprised. "I ....I ran off and Finn followed me. Tried to talk me into going home, but I ...was upset."

Finn blinked a few times in surprise. Then he sighed. Oh, yeah. If you can't be the one who got shot, be the one at fault. He waited for the response. Attention in any form was like a drug to the fourteen year old.

"Justin?" A wealth of sympathy was in the doctor's voice.

Finn bit his tongue. Yep. He gave up, closing his eyes as Dr. Michaels reassured Justin that the whole incident wasn't his fault. Oh sure, but it had been Finn's fault when it was assumed that he'd been the one come up with the idea of skipping school.

"May I intrude?" It was structured like a question, but the uniformed officer didn't bother to wait for a response before coming in. 

Finn felt nothing but tired as he eyed the blue-suited man standing in the open doorway. He frowned out of habit alone. "If I said no?"

"I'd intrude anyway." The officer's tag read Ryeman. He was completely bald, but not old. Did the man shave his head or something? Not only that, but he looked like a boxer dressed up in a blue uniform rather than like a real cop. His face seemed as if it had gone a round or three too, while his skin showed that either he was deeply tanned or that his genetics were varied.

"Who broke your nose?" Finn asked, testing the waters.

"Which time?" The officer clicked his pen, appearing unperturbed by the question.

Dr. Michaels took charge of Justin, encouraging the younger teen to leave with promises of hot chocolate in the cafeteria. The door shut behind them on Justin's protests that he wanted to stay and 'support my brother'.

The room didn't actually fall quiet. The hum and whir of machinery was everywhere, even with the I.V. pump turned off. The clock, the whir of something unseen working, and even the bed made noises as Finn shifted himself up. Wincing, he groaned.

"Let me." The officer reached out and pressed a button on the bed control that Finn hadn't even known was there. The head of the bed rose up behind him, letting him rest while still sitting up.

Finn thanked the officer, feeling stupid that he hadn't realized the bed had controls. He looked at the man's name tag and waited. It was always better to say less rather than more when talking to law enforcement. They tended to turn your words around on you. He hadn't learned that solely from watching t.v. shows either.

"Tell me what happened?"

"Did your wife break your nose?" Finn asked, sliding around the question out of habit.

The officer smiled coolly. "No. She was my ex-wife at the time."

Finn actually cracked a smile at that. 

"I'm Detective Ryeman and I'm looking into what happened at the convenience store. Can you tell me, well ...everything?" The man looked stern, but not unapproachable. And a big plus? Finn had never dealt with him before.

Finn eyed the other man for a moment, taking his time. "I thought detectives wore suits?"

"Oh we do." The detective nodded without smiling. "We also have uniforms, depending on what the job requires. You're not my only task today."

The teenager nodded and took a deep breath before telling the detective what had happened from the moment the boys had entered the convenience store's parking lot. Though he left out the unnatural heat wave inside him, though he did describe how the world went colorless. Justin's questions about burning things and insistence that it had been Finn's doing made him more cautious.

The officer let him recite it twice before he started asking questions, digging for details. Backing Finn up over and over again, going slowly over every step. The teen went along with the questioning, mostly telling the truth about it all. But his head was starting to hurt more and more, and the ache in his side was growing persistent.

The officer nodded and looked up finally, pinning Finn with a long look of patience. "Now. What aren't you telling me?"

Unsurprised, Finn shook his head and shrugged. Questioning techniques 101 according to police shows.

"Why did you skip school?" The man's tone seemed friendly enough, but Finn just closed his eyes and shook his head again. He winced, his headache felt like it was getting worse.

"I need something for pain." It wasn't a lie.

The detective gave him a solemn look, but then pulled up a cord with a red button on the end and pushed it. "We'll see if they'll let you take anything. In the meantime, why did you decide to skip school?"

"Because." The teen avoided the question. "Look, I've already answered this question and I'm starting to feel sick, here." He leaned slightly left, to ease the ache in his right side and stopped immediately as the pain increased instead. He settled back against the bed, feeling clammy and weak. His skin seemed to break out with chill bumps.

"Did you know the store was going to be robbed?" The officer asked matter-of-factly, little inflection in his deep voice.

Shocked, Finn's eyes flew open wide in real surprise. That was not a question he'd anticipated. "No." Came the automatic, if stunned, response. "That's stupid." Why was the man asking that? Nothing in his past record with the police indicated anything like that!

"Is it?" Detective Ryeman cocked his head to one side, watching Finn very carefully. "You did quite a number on the perpetrator."

"Yes, may I help you?" A thin voice came over a small speaker housed in one of the bed rails.

The detective nodded as he spoke. "Kid wants something for pain."

"Let me check to see what the doctor's ordered, I don't know if it's time to take another dose yet." The voice said and disappeared.

The detective sighed and looked pointedly at the teen once more. "You took him down. Hard." He said, refusing to be deterred from his questions.

"He shot me!" Finn protested, waving his hand awkwardly at the officer as if to make him go away. "Ask him, damn it. No, I don't know him. No, I didn't know he was going to be there, and I sure as hell didn't know I was going to be shot today."

"Yesterday."

The response startled Finn badly. "Y ...yesterday?" His eyes flew to the blinds covering the window, hints of afternoon sunlight peeking through. He'd missed a day?

The officer nodded grimly. "The pain medication they gave you after surgery really knocked you out, kid."

"Surgery? But Dr. Michaels said I was only grazed." Finn's stomach turned over sickly. The throbbing in his right side grew exponentially worse just thinking about it all.

"Took a chunk out of your side. I hear they thought you might have managed to spring an internal leak, but didn't find anything. Interesting scar you'll have, but all in all, not bad. Especially compared to the other fellows." The officer paused. "You don't remember me asking you questions following the surgery?"

Mutely, Finn just shook his head. Why hadn't Dr. Michaelson mentioned this to him? His hand went to his side, and then he hesitated, afraid to actually touch. And what 'other fellows' was he talking about? The clerk, sure ...but not the bad guy, surely?

"Me and the clerk got shot." Finn's voice sounded weak, even to himself.

The officer grunted, then sighed as he watched the sixteen year old very carefully. "Your eyes were open, but you weren't seeing anything. I wasn't sure what was going on. Your social worker said you used to look like that as a kid, whenever separated from your brother. Justin? That's his name?"

Finn barely managed a nod. Shock piling up on shock. He'd gone catatonic? He hadn't done that since the last time the state had tried to separate the boys into different homes, but that had been years ago! That incident had been a social worker's nightmare. One child screaming himself hoarse until nearly passing out, while the other had simply ceased to move or react. So they'd been placed together, though no one had been quite sure what would happen when Finn started school without his younger brother. But they had somehow managed. Justin had cried a lot those first few weeks, and Finn had gone really quiet at school. But it had eased up after a while. Now? As teens? Not too bad of a problem. In fact, Finn had dared to hope those days of brother needing brother were over with, something they'd grown out of at the very least.

"Your breathing improved and your eyes closed when they finally allowed Justin in to see you." The officer spoke almost gently. "So I've heard." His voice made it clear that he knew more than he was saying. Common cop practice, Finn surmised.

The teen didn't like this conversation anymore, feeling edgy and uncomfortable, unsure of what the detective wanted. "So why do you think I had anything to do with the robbery?" He changed the subject quickly, almost desperately, his tone of voice vaguely challenging.

Detective Ryeman twitched his mouth slightly and shrugged, he was obviously not impressed with a touchy teenager. "Just checking it all out. You did a number on the man who shot you. Like you were trying to shut him up."

"Or stop him from shooting me again!" Snapped the teen, fear turning into straight anger.

The officer studied the youth for a long moment, as if making up his mind about something. "You have some paper on you, kid. Vandalism, truancy, minor scuffles ....fires."

Finn kept his mouth shut. The vandalism had been Justin, so had the fires. Skipping school? Yeah, a few times. Sometimes with Justin, once or twice just to get away. Scuffles? "Defending myself."

"Or defending your brother?" The officer asked pointedly. Finn didn't respond and the officer shook his head. "Back to yesterday, you broke the perpetrator's hyoid bone. Nearly killed the man, as it is he's having trouble swallowing and speaking. Pretty much compromised the airway according to the docs."

"He shot me." Finn weakly offered the excuse as a defense, his mind reeling. He remembered wrapping his hands around the man's throat, just as he recalled the heat that had filled him with strength and energy. He could even remember the sick feeling when something had seemed to break beneath his grip. Had he really managed to do that much damage to the man?

"How did his neck get burned?"

Burned? Finn's mind stumbled away from the word not wanting to think about that, or the strange heat he'd felt. Yeah, he was glad he hadn't mentioned that part to Detective Ryeman earily. He blinked, stalling while wishing he was anywhere else but here. Looking away from the detective, Finn stared at a wall and gritted his teeth. How could the man have gotten burned, how could anything have burned? That heat had just been adrenaline and fear, hadn't it? Only imaginary, not real. Definitely not real. 

"Know nothing, huh?" The officer clicked his pen a few times. "Okay. Start over. Why were you boys skipping school again?"

Finn closed his eyes, feeling his headache worsen. It was like a drum beat in his head, pounding away. As if someone were trying to break out of his skull from the inside.

"Mr. Michaelson?"

Who? Oh, him. As if calling him 'mister' would make him answer any differently. "I told you." Finn swallowed hard, feeling as if he were about to throw up.

"Tell me again." The detective said evenly.

Finn's head felt ready to burst as he opened his eyes. Gray. The wall had lost all color. Hadn't it been white? And the wall looked almost transparent, like a plastic sheet rather than anything solid. He could just about see through the wall, as if it only existed in the abstract. Like a layer of film. He looked away, toward the ceiling. Clouds? Inside a hospital room? His eyes flicked this way and that, his fear and unease escalating as he could see nothing but layer after layer of partially transparent gray film. Clouds that started on one layer, but didn't continue to the next. One such layer had an antenna spiraling upwards, but in another there was nothing but empty sky.

A largish bird appeared to be flying within one of the many tiers of layers, desperately Finn focused on that one thing. Maybe if he centered his mind on one thing, then everything else would settle down. His eyes sought out the bird, trying to see beyond the dim gray haze covering his vision. He concentrated on the feathers and the more he looked, the sharper the image became. White belly feathers and black tips along the wings. Predator. Small dark eyes missing nothing on the ground below as it searched for prey, food. So simple. So removed from worry other than the next mouthful. Finn felt his mind want to fly away, just like that bird. Away from all of this. Away from his life. Free. Something in him seemed to slowly unfurl, moving with increasing speed as if reaching out from himself. Faster and faster until he was almost away, almost free, only to slam headfirst into a mental wall of some kind. 

Pain doubled and redoubled his headache as Finn forgot how to breathe for a moment. Fatigue bit him deeply and consciousness wavered as if he might pass out.

His lungs seized and he opened his mouth, air rushing back in to inhabit his body once more. Three great gasps escaped him before his lungs seemed to catch on that they were to go back to working properly. 

"Kid? This isn't over yet. Ignoring me won't work by the way." A pause as if the detective was thinking things over. "Look, I'm calling in the nurse, but if you're having me on this will not ..." 

Finn managed a deep breath and opened his suddenly gritty and dry feeling eyes. Either he was swaying or the world was. Most likely it was him. The colors remained gone, the gray films still haunting him. The bird he'd been concentrating on was simply a wash of gray over gray again. Bitter disappointment ate at him as he continued to ignore the man standing next to his bed.

He glanced one more time at the soaring bird, but he didn't try to wish himself there again. Yet it was no easy task to let go of that desire to be free. Finn looked at the bird one more time, watching as powerful wings beat against the sky and against gravity. Feathers. Feathers and delicate bones and muscles, defying the laws of gravity and carrying the creature high into the sky to look archly down at the world laid out before him. Finn's heart ached, wanting to be there, to be able to shriek out his own defiance to the world around him. To be the predator, not the prey. To fly. And with that last thought, something within him that had unfurled earlier, simply reached out without command and instead of pushing him toward the sky, it pulled.

His vision went blank and it worried him for a second before he realized he'd closed his eyes completely. At the same time, something deep within him felt like it was tearing open. Heat seeped out into his muscles once more. But this time it wasn't a flood of hot energy and it didn't bring that urge to move, or to fight. This was just pure relief. His headache started to fade, and his lungs opened up, allowing him to breathe deeply once more. Sheer relief from the pain had him forgetting about the gray worlds and it's soaring inhabitant for a moment. Until the sound shocked him back to reality.

The sharp shriek that clearly wasn't human and the sound of rustling feathers startled Finn's eyes open just as something knocked over the cup of ice water the nurse had left behind on his bedside table.

Stunned, both he and the police detective stared at the furious bird with it's sharp beak and predator's eyes. 

"What in the damn world?" The detective backed away from the bird as it angrily flapped it's wings, his dark eyes looking around the room as it squawked loudly.

Finn's stomach dropped. He'd done that. He had done that. But how? He stared in wide-eyed amazement and fear. Fear turned to panic and the sixteen year old scrambled up in his bed, pushing with his feet while ignoring the pain from his recent injury. His arms pushed the air away from him, like he was warding off something evil. That heat which had filled him just moments ago seemed to flow through him through his hands and out of his body. His mind rejected what his eyes were seeing and with all his being, Finn pushed. At nothing.

The door to his hospital room opened and his same nurse from earlier hurried in carrying another cup of water and a smaller cup, presumably with some medication. "How much pain are you in?" She frowned sharply.

Finn's eyes went from her face, back over to where the large bird had been not a moment before. Nothing. Nothing. He'd only imagined it. An hallucination. Relief made his muscles tremble and suddenly all his pain came flooding back, making him gag for a moment.

A cup of water was pushed in front of his mouth and he fought, pressing his lips together. "Too cold." He protested weakly.

Not missing a beat the nurse put the cup with the ice water down and picked up an earlier cup, where the ice was now nicely melted and the water closer to room temperature. "It'll be four hours before you can have anything more, but if you are still in pain let us know so we can get the doctor in here to check on you."

Pills swallowed and blankets smoothed, Finn slid back down into the bed. "I still hurt." He protested.

The nurse smiled at him. "It'll take a few minutes to kick in. You need to rest." The last word was stressed and her eyes slid to the detective still standing in the room.

Finn's eyes followed the gaze of the nurse and he stopped breathing again. The detective was holding up a rather large white feather with black edging on the tip. Hallucination. It had to have been. So what was the feather still doing here, in his hospital room?

"Kid? Mr. Michaelson? Where did that bird come from? And where did it go?" Finn blinked rapidly and shook his head. Not good. Not good at all.

All too quickly it became overwhelming and Finn's stomach could take no more as it churned and nausea took over reflexively. He barely managed to turn away and hang his head over the bed rails.

Detective Ryeman jumped clear with a look of disgust and concern as Finn emptied his stomach onto the floor. He was only vaguely aware of the officer and the nurse both yelling, at each other as well as for other people.

Sousa

Sousa Whittal twisted her fingers together, hidden in the deep pockets of her favorite jacket. Not much could get her to enter a hospital willingly and she was feeling jumpy. 

Her younger sister, Mac, looked up at her in sympathy. "Mom said to wait in the lobby." She pointed out with the clear logic of a nine year old, almost ten thank you very much.

Sousa steeled her expression, not wanting to worry the younger girl. But she knew something was wrong, at least it felt wrong. Edgy, she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Mom knows where we're heading."

"They said he's okay." Mac said quietly, her small hand reaching up to tuck into the space between her sister's side and her arm.

Sousa nodded, not mentioning that the reason she'd not elected to remain in the lobby as instructed had little to do with needing to see Finn that much quicker. But because she'd caught a glimpse of Justin Michaelson in the hospital's gift shop cafe. Between balloons exclaiming the gender of a newborn, and tall models of romanticized light houses, there had been the unmistakable profile of a certain young teen that she was all too familiar with.

Sousa shuddered.

It seemed to her that she was born to loathe Justin Michaelson. The moment she'd met him, the urge to attack had nearly overwhelmed her. She smiled grimly to herself. In fact, she had jumped him at the social services event. But the first grader could only do so much damage and the social workers were quick to intervene, especially since she'd been attacking a younger child, even if he had outweighed her.

Mac looked up at her older sister, her expression worried.

Sousa gave her sister a closed-lip smile that she hoped looked natural. She'd come a long way since first grade, but that didn't mean her feelings had abated at all. Though she was unsure why Justin put her on edge just by existing. Sousa could manage to keep from attacking him now, she even managed to feel a small amount of shame that the urge to hurt him was still there. She wasn't generally in favor of violence.

"He's okay." Mac whispered, her small face pale. 

Sousa pulled her hand from her pocket and wrapped it around her beloved younger sister's shoulder. Mac loved Finn with the same fervor as Sousa hated Justin. As for her own personal feelings for Finn, that was a bit more complicated, though he really was her best friend. 

Finn Michaelson had been a quiet first grader with dark, haunted eyes when they'd first met. They hadn't sat next to each other in class, their names started with different letters of the alphabet. He'd been the quiet one in class, never volunteering, never speaking up unless called upon. Taller than most of the other boys, with a sense of being solid. Like someone you could count on. But no matter who had tried, no one could get him out of his shell. Often he'd be staring out the windows and eventually everyone just left him alone.

Sousa hadn't been one of the classmates to try for his attention. She had her own issues to deal with. Still, it had only had been after her run-in with young Justin that things had changed. Sousa still remembered how he'd walked up to her on the swings so long ago, catching the chain in one hand and holding on until she came to a stop in front of him.

It was so unlike him, to take initiative to talk to someone, that she had merely stared at him as he looked back at her.

"I heard you hit my brother." He'd finally said, his expression closed and wary.

"Yeah." She'd lifted her chin defiantly, although she'd not known then that the two boys were brothers. Still, it hadn't been hard to figure out whom he meant, since she hadn't normally gone around hitting people. Sousa smiled a bit as she remembered how brave she'd tried to act in front of Finn, even though he had seriously outweighed her even if she had been almost his height. Sousa had always been very slender, more than approaching outright skinny with joints that looked bigger than they should because her limbs had no meat to them. She had been at a physical disadvantage on several different levels. "So?"

"Cool." Finn had said quietly, his eyes dropping down to the ground between them. "But ...look out for him. He holds grudges. So, be careful of him, okay?"

"Not of you?" She'd asked defiantly all those years ago.

Finn had shaken his head and had finally looked up, giving her a lopsided kind of half-smile. They'd been friends ever since.

It had helped that both had been raised in the foster care system. They could share some things without even speaking about them. A look, a word, a gture. They understood one another. For the most part. Their pasts weren't exactly mirror images. Sousa hadn't been abandoned. There had been a multi-car pile up on I-95 and she'd been flung out of one of the vehicles. A miracle survivor.

But no one knew whose miracle survivor. Several people had died or been critically injured, but there was no record of Sousa at all. She'd been about four at the time, and could only remember her first name. After a lot of searching and even some national media attention, she'd become a ward of the state of North Carolina.

However, Sousa's experiences differed from both Finn and Justin's. She'd been one of the lucky ones. Adopted as quickly as legally able by her first set of foster parents. Loved. A second adoption several years later had added Mac to the family. Gweneth was her given name actually, but everyone called her Mac since for a long time the only food she'd willingly eaten had been macaroni and cheese.

The elevator stopped on the 2nd floor and two nurses in scrubs walked in, as well as someone in a suit. They all had official hospital name tags.

One of the nurses smiled at the two girls. "This is the employee elevator. Are you girls lost?"

Sousa smiled sweetly, not admitting to not wanting to cross the lobby to the visitor elevator banks in case Justin had seen them. "A friend got hurt, he's on the third floor."

Mac blinked up at the nurses and leaned her head against her sister's side. "And these elevators were closer."

The nurses both smiled and nodded, giving directions for once the girls got off on the third floor.

Sousa nodded and thanked them, even as they finally got to the indicated floor. The elevator doors opened. She took a deep breath, knowing the looks she was about to get.

Mac followed her sister off the elevator, both ignoring anyone watching. Sousa knew what people saw when they looked at her. She was beautiful. Tall for a girl, and very slender now that her body had grown enough to cover her earlier skinniness. All leg and though not much in the curve department, she had enough not to look like a stick. Wavy dark curls flowed down her back and overly large blue eyes graced an oval shaped face. She'd been asked often if she had any desire to model.

Until people saw her walk.

Sousa hadn't come away from that car accident unscathed. Her small body had been thrown quite a distance, resulting in a badly damaged pelvis and leg trauma. She'd had to learn to walk all over again. With a pediatric walker at first, then a cane. Now at sixteen, she could walk unassisted, but with an uneven gait. "Why are you limping?" "Sports injury?" "Such a shame." She'd heard it all before.

The teen didn't care about how she looked. But she couldn't stand pity. She turned and pointed toward a sign the nurses had told the girls to look for. Mac nodded and they headed down the hallway to the nurses station.

Sousa smiled as Mac ran up to the main desk, putting her hands on the counter and peering over with her light blue eyes. Her sister was adorable, grinning and trying to chat with the nurses as she asked about 'her Finn'.

However, the nursing staff ignored them and seemed too preoccupied as they bustled from here to there. Finally, a harassed looking nurse stopped and distractedly made some noise about Mac being too young to visit. Sousa begged him to let the smaller girl stay, reassuring the man that her petite blond sister was older than she looked.

And it was true. Mac had been adopted as an infant, being what the media often referred to as a 'crack baby'. Low birth weight. That was the only symptom Mac ever really exhibited. She was definitely smaller than other children her age, but not by much. However she was sharp and intelligent and beyond sweet, despite predictions to the contrary due to the drugs in her system at birth. 

Sousa and Mac both promised not to visit long, and the nurse grimaced but waved them to a room at the end of the hallway as the girls promised that their mother would be up as soon as she finished parking the car. The two girls pushed open the indicated door, stepping inside. Mac rushed the bed, ignoring the yellow 'wet floor' sign on the freshly mopped floor.

They both stopped at the sight of the uniformed officer standing next to the bed. But the man just held up a hand for them to wait for one moment. He was asking Finn something about a white-tailed kite, but their friend was mutely shaking his head and shrugging.

"I don't know how it got in the room." Finn was saying weakly, looking far too pale as far as Sousa could tell.

"The windows don't open wide, and the screen was still intact." The officer stated with a frown.

She watched Finn shrug, looking lost. "I still don't know what you're talking about. It's a feather. I don't know how it got here."

The officer made a face but nodded thoughtfully as he almost casually twirled a largish white feather between his thumb and forefinger. He turned and glanced at the two girls. "Friends?"

"That title is taken." Mac grinned mischievously.

Sousa gave the officer a wary but polite smile as she nudged her younger sister, clearly trying to suppress the youngster's comments. "He's not playing." She whispered.

Mac shrugged.

"Now, about this kite that was in your room here." The officer started again.

Finn sighed. "There was no bird." His voice sounded strained to his two friends.

Now Mac frowned. "Leave him alone. He's hurt. And he's been in here, so he didn't steal a kite."

The police officer nodded, closing his notebook. "Not a kite, but a big bird called a kite. Besides, I'm not the one who hurt him, but 10-4." He smiled at a too-pale looking Finn. "Protective isn't she?"

Mac stilled and blinked for a moment. "10-4?" She asked, as if unsure she was being made fun of.

"It means okay." The officer smiled gently. "It's a code the police use."

Mac scrunched up her nose a bit and then shook her head. "Why don't you just say fourteen. Ten plus four is fourteen."

Finn and Sousa both smiled, being used to the young girl.

The officer actually chuckled. "It's radio code. 10-4 means 'okay'. It means I understood what you said."

"Well what do you say when you don't understand? Like how can a kite be a bird? Unless it's shaped like a bird." Mac rocked back and forth slightly in her bright blue tennis shoes.

The policeman shrugged. "Let's see. I guess that would be 10-1, which means unable to copy, or change location."

Mac looked at Sousa for confirmation of what the man was telling her. The older girl nodded.

"What's another one?" Mac asked eagerly, her early pique forgotten.

Finn coughed slightly and winced. "You've done it now."

The police officer nodded and headed toward the door. "I think I'll leave you with 10-24, it means assignment completed. I'll leave you with your friends. We'll talk later, son." The officer turned back toward Finn.

The teen sighed and shrugged again. "Not your son, and I don't know what more I can tell you."

"Take it easy then, not-my-son." The officer said in a dead-pan voice.

Finn actually gave a tepid kind of lopsided smile to that and nodded as the officer finally left the room.

"In trouble? I thought you were the hero." Sousa asked quietly from just inside the doorway.

Finn managed a bigger smile for the two of them, but he still looked too pale to her. Mac had no reservations, jumping up and clapping as she ran toward the hospital bed. Straight for his right side.

"Other side, other side." He joked, motioning the nine-year old toward his left. "Bullet didn't kill me, so don't you finish me off."

Sousa caught her breath as she took a good long look at him. Finn was definitely not looking right. And the sight of him in a hospital gown made her teeth clench. "You're an idiot." She snapped, feeling on edge and yet relieved that he was basically alright.

Finn gave her an abashed look. "So? I forgot how to duck."

Sousa shook her head at him, walking up to the bed. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling him turn his hand over as she slid her palm down to meet his own. "I hate you." Her blue eyes traveled over his face, her heart beat racing a bit.

Finn squeezed her hand tight and she clung to him, feeling the coolness of his skin with a frown. He usually radiated heat. It was an old joke between them. "Your thermostat is low, Smithy." For some reason the long-time nickname made Finn stiffen slightly. Sousa frowned.

"Guess what, guess what?" Mac smiled brightly. "Mom brought you a present to get well."

The young man stilled as he eyed the bubbly nine year old. "Your mom?"

Sousa tugged on his hand to draw his attention back to her, giving him a weak smile. "Yeah. She heard you protected Justin and she's decided that even you have your good points."

Finn sighed. Mrs. Whittal considered him trouble. And a lot of it. But she thought Justin was the sweetest thing ever. Both images were carefully cultivated by Justin himself. Something that wasn't just for Mrs. Whittal's benefit, Justin pretty much wanted to charm the world. All for his own reasons and his need to be adored.

"And I learned a new card trick! Wanna see?" Mac pulled a deck of playing cards from her bright orange purse which did not match her outfit. Although it did match the thin streak of fake hair alongside her left temple along with some tiny feathers.

"Feathers don't belong on little girls." Finn teased the nine-year old, who merely poked her tongue out at him.

Feathers. Sousa jerked her head to indicate the hallway as she remembered the commotion from when they'd arrived on the floor. "What's with the bird. A white-tail kite?"

"That's a stupid name for a bird." Mac shuffled her cards, held them out for Finn and then frowned, pulling them back. "Did they think you stole a bird?"

Finn's face went strangely blank and for a moment Sousa thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally he shrugged. "Apparently it's a rare breed here in North Carolina. And one of it's feathers somehow got into the hospital. No one knows how." His voice sounded flat and his fingers loosened from around hers. "I woke up and it was in my room. Not my fault."

Sousa frowned, but let the moment go. They were close friends, but not a romantic pair. Her fault, not his. She let his hand slide away from hers as Mac poked Finn in the shoulder. Finn turned to look at the nine-year old as she stared into his face very, very seriously. "Protecting Justin?"

Finn's face flushed slightly. "Instinct." 

The door opened behind them and all three turned to see a smiling Mrs. Whittal, being escorted into the room by an equally smiling Justin.

The fourteen year old looked around the room. He knew where he wasn't wanted. Yet he thrived on being contrary. "See? Here they all are! I thought I heard familiar voices. Look who I found in the lobby."

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far, I would ask please a review of what you liked or didn't like. I really am wanting to be a published author and need to know if the story is working. Thank you.


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